


Morning star

by Trash



Series: Kinktober 2017 [22]
Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: Kinktober 2017, M/M, Mild mentions of gore, day 22: scars, wing fic I guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 07:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12452736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash/pseuds/Trash
Summary: "Maybe you're an angel.""Not anymore," Dan says.





	Morning star

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober 2017, day 22: scars

Kyle isn't sure when he first noticed the scars on Dan's back. Thick and silvery and raised, just under his shoulder blades. He feels like he must have seen them before now, but he can't remember. 

Dan sleeps on his side with his back to Kyle, so it's easy to reach out and run his fingers over them slowly like he's reading Braille. 

Dan shivers, mumbles, "pack it in."

"Sorry. What are they from, then?"

"Hmm?" Dan shifts, but doesn't roll over. "Oh. I've had them since I was a kid," he says, as if that's an answer. 

And before Kyle can ask again, he'a fast asleep.

***

The next time Kyle sees Dan shirtless isn't until a week later and they're backstage. 

"You never told me about those scars," he says as he kneels down to tie his shoe laces. 

Dan stands in front of the full length mirror, pulls on a t-shirt and adjusts it. His reflection looks at Kyle. "You didn't ask again."

"Fair. I'm asking now."

"I had an operation when I was little, and that's what I was left with."

"Bloody hell. Was it on your lungs or something?"

Dan opens his mouth to reply but Dick walks in looking close to apoplectic. "What the fuck are you two knob heads doing? Everybody's waiting."

And that's that. 

***

They're curled in the tiny space of Kyle's bunk the next time he brings it up. 

"Kyle," Dan says, tiredly. 

"Sorry. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"It's not that. You wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

Dan looks at him, unblinking, for almost a minute. "I was born with wings."

"Eh?"

"Fuck off."

"No. What? You were...what's the logistics of that? Vagina wise?"

"Kyle."

"Sorry."

Dan takes a deep breath. "I don't know about the vagina logistics. My mum and dad found me on the outskirts of their township, and I had wings."

"Like a cherub?"

"Something like that. Anyway. The people in the township tried to convince them I was an omen, because right after there was a drought. So my dad hacked off my wings."

Kyle can picture it. A rusty old hack saw in a shed, he can feel the South African heat beating down. "Did it hurt?"

Dan shrugs. "You can't remember pain properly."

"Then what happened?"

"Even without the wings I wasn't welcome. My mum wasn't allowed in the church anymore. So they brought me here. Scars and all."

"Jesus."

"Yeah," Dan says. "Only not. More likely the other one. Lucifer."

"He was an angel too," Kyle says. "People forget. He got this bad rep because he loved God and hated humans. And he was cast out."

"Mmm," Dan says, drifting off to sleep. "I hadn't forgotten."

"Maybe you're an angel."

"Not anymore," Dan says. 

And that's that.


End file.
